


ghosts that we knew (left us black and all blue)

by borrowedtime



Series: reincarnation alternate universe [1]
Category: Merlin (TV), Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/F, SuperCorp, who knows what this is honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:12:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedtime/pseuds/borrowedtime
Summary: Morgana Pendragon is reincarnated many times over, including into the form of Lena Luthor.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ghosts That We Knew by Mumford & Sons.

It had been quite some time since Emrys had driven Excalibur into her heart and left her to bleed, cold and breathless, next to her dying brother. Morgana knew in her final moments that it was over, the battle was lost and so, too, was the war. Emrys had completed his mission, her doom had risen up and choked the life from her just as the prophecies said he would.

So, when her eyes opened in some murky black pit, Morgana was understandably befuddled. There had been no rest for her, her soul had simply hung in darkness, suspended in time, but her eyes were never open. Until now. A cloaked figure - a woman as far as the High Priestess could tell - stood before her.

Morgana strode through the darkness, not at all confident that what appeared to be the ground wouldn’t collapse underneath her without warning.

‘What,’ she began. ‘What is this?’

By all accounts, as far as the eldest of Uther’s children figured, she should be dead. Not stepping across this errant blackness.

‘You do not know, Lady Morgana?’ the scratchy voice enquired.

‘If I knew, why would I ask?’

'The prophecies foretold the rising again of Arthur but they did not realise that his greatest enemy was also destined to rise again, and again. They would be locked in endless battle until the end of time. So, too, would Emrys. The Great Dragon does not know everything.’

Morgana paused. Nobody had told her this. She supposed nobody had expected it either. Surely, surely Morgause would have mentioned if she knew.

Straining, her voice rough with disuse, the High Priestess asked the figure if she was sure that Morgana was the one to be deemed Arthur’s greatest enemy. The figure retorted that now was not the time to be modest.

And, so, Morgana was sent back to the world of the living.

It didn’t happen instantly, she wasn’t reincarnated every time she died. Her soul did not immediately fill another being. Sometimes it took years, sometimes it took decades, sometimes it took centuries.

She spent time as ladies, as witches and as Queens. Mary was the name she had adopted in one life. A woman destined to watch her younger sister triumph in her favour; Elizabeth they called her. A reincarnation of Emrys, Morgana had little doubt.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t always reassigned a being with magical powers. There was a dull period in the 18th century that saw her live out a life as a middle class woman of little distinction and no extraordinary features at all.

Sometimes she forgot that her mission was to kill Emrys, at all. Sometimes she got so wrapped up in her new life that she forgot about the prophecy.

She dreamt of her first life, when inhabiting all the others. The power, the rage, the loneliness. Morgana Pendragon, a name she realised had indeed lasted the test of time. Though others called her Morgana Le Fay or other variations. Some tales forgot that she was the rightful Queen of Camelot.

She tasted the bitterness, the desperation in her dreams when she howled upon that throne carved out of a cold stone; 'I want him dead!’ She tasted the rage in her throat when she saw Merlin underneath the castle when he told her the city would fall; 'good!’ She tasted her fright upon seeing Emrys in her hut, come to haunt her once again; 'you’re just my imagination.’

Each chance at a new life began and her old wounds began to close.

It was somewhere around her fifth or sixth reincarnation that there began to be some words thrown around about the feelings that occasionally stirred her soul; if she had much of a soul left to stir. There was a part of her that she stored so deep that she feared she had forgotten about it, something much more shameful than magic and something she had never dared breath aloud.

Arthur had occasionally wondered at why Morgana seemed fit to point out all the flaws in the marriage proposals Uther brought to her. Why she was convinced in their futility that Uther eventually gave up mentioning them to her. Some of her dark companions wondered why, in her relentless pursuit of Camelot, did she never seek comfort out in their strong arms. Some thought it odd that she never tried to seduce some of the Knights of Camelot into her service, for it would not prove a difficult task.

What she had thought, in lieu of telling those who questioned her to mind their place, was that they should never find out that the High Priestess of the Triple Goddess was attracted to women. And only women.

Morgana wasn’t even sure Morgause knew.

Her sixth reincarnation brought her, within her pursuit of power, to begin her first serious dalliance with another woman. When she was Queen of Scots she had had a few handmaidens, just to try it out she promised herself. This reincarnation however, saw her fall in love with a woman called Alexandra. Morgana’s new name was Esther, and she adopted it well, revelling in how Alexandra would whisper it in dark rooms and unpopulated hallways.

They were both executed for their love, in the end, but Morgana realised that society was evolving, that that part of her may not need to stay hidden for much longer.

If asked, Morgana would say that her favourite century was the 21st. What the society lacked in steadfast belief, it made up for in freedom. She could move through the ranks of a business with only minimal amounts of questioning as to her ability. She could love another woman, publicly if she wished.

Suddenly, it seemed the effort to find Arthur and Emrys was a futile one. She’d be damned if she couldn’t have at least one life to herself before she devoted herself back to her cause.

Her new name, in her twelfth reincarnation was Lena. Lena Luthor. Adopted at a young age, Lena saw herself grow up under the shadow of her brother. That brother, soon succumbing to madness and genocidal beliefs, Morgana would have thought to be another Emrys if he wasn’t so blindly motivated by selfish need.

Lena was not magical, as far as Morgana could tell, but she did have power in a way the High Priestess had not yet thought possible. Lena inherited her family’s company, and kept in through savvy business work and a ruthlessness known only to the true Queen of Camelot. She renamed it too, to seperate it from those who had owned it previously and to turn over a clean slate.

Morgana wasn’t so sure she needed to find Emrys in this life, regardless.

Magic, it seemed, had no place in this world. Instead, there were aliens. Powerful creatures, with innate abilities that Morgana marvelled at. Inhuman strength, force fields, incomparable speed. Morgana was sure this was magic reincarnated too.

When Morgana first heard of SuperGirl, she was sure that this was to be a new Emrys. There was Superman to contend with, as well, but for some reason Morgana was sure she’d seen SuperGirl before, felt her presence in her first life. Morgana distrusted this creature who stood for others with every bone in her body. And yet.

SuperGirl was unfailingly kind, Morgana would admit, but it was less her kindness than her acceptance that won Morgana over. Morgana sipped at the bitterness in her mouth when she remembered how those with magic had been treated in her first life. But SuperGirl, no, she promised only to judge those based on their actions. She even looked at Lena, what with their history and her name, with a promise to uphold her only to what she saw not what she heard.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Kara Danvers was SuperGirl. It wasn’t hard to kiss her, either. Morgana stole kisses where she could and avoided the reverberations of destiny in her mind when she did. Emrys could wait, Emrys would always be there in another life.

So, Morgana continued running her business and her flirtation with Kara Danvers. It felt oddly good to forget the desperation and the bitterness of her first life. It felt good to forget that her sole purpose of existence was to thwart another man. It felt good to forget the days of the Old Religion.

Once, Kara stayed the night in Lena’s large and expensive apartment. Morgana woke with dreams of torment, the day she could not find her brother on a plain where he was destined to die. She woke up shrieking, voice rattling through glass with sheer emotion.

'I want him dead!’

Morgana half expected there to be a curtain alight with fire or a vase shattered on the floor, until she remembered that Lena had no ounce of magic.

Kara sat there, confusion written all over her alien face. She quietly asked Lena if she was dreaming about her brother. Morgana nearly choked at the question until she remembered that Lena, too, had a brother. Morgana said, dry and lacking emotion, that Kara must have thought her horrible.

To her surprise, Kara shook her head.

Morgana felt all bitterness ease out of her body. There was to be no Arthur in this life. There was to be no Emrys either. She would love this alien creature until her final breath, and when that final breath came, then she would be left waiting. Until she would rise again, and battle Emrys and her destiny in another life and another body.

That’s what Morgana reminded herself as she laid back down in Kara’s arms. She could have her time without bitterness, in this life. There would always been another body.

**Author's Note:**

> crossover fic that popped into my head for god knows what reason tbh. also on tumblr: morgana-pendragonss


End file.
